


Lucky

by bomberqueen17



Series: Lost & Found [3]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: AU: Earth, Family Relationships - Freeform, First Time, M/M, Tattoos, finally smut, mental health support, negotiated consent, phone check-ins, safe sex, some of Poe's deal is explained, very mild D/s undertones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 21:15:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8505682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bomberqueen17/pseuds/bomberqueen17
Summary: Picking up right after A Little White Dove With Black Eyes, and filling in the gap in the last chapter of Found Cat: here is the glorious not all that elaborate sex scene that is Finn and Poe's first time.Poe POV, since I wrote it in continuity with Little White Dove.





	1. Chapter 1

  
  


They made out on the floor of Finn’s apartment for long enough that Poe deployed most of his patented Makeout Tricks, and got himself so turned on he couldn’t see straight or breathe properly. 

Finn was perfect, exactly as perfect as Poe had daydreamed; he was all solid body, hard muscle and soft skin and sweet lips and eager gentleness. He wasn’t much bigger than Poe really, in either height or breadth, but he had big capable hands that he kept using to cradle various aspects of Poe— his hips, the back of his head, his ribs— and it was driving Poe out of his mind. He was also every bit as pure as Poe had thought— not innocent, not ignorant, but completely transparent and clear in his motives. He was pure desire, with no weird power play shit wrapped up in it, no calculations of status or concerns of relationship dynamics or anything. He just wanted to touch Poe in all the places Poe seemed willing to be touched, and wouldn’t escalate or play to advantage or try anything. He just wanted to be, and do, and Poe could have cried with how pure it all was if he weren’t so busy being so turned-on he might spontaneously combust.

They’d started out kneeling face to face, and it hadn’t taken Poe long to basically crawl into Finn’s lap. Finally Poe pinned Finn down to the floor, rolling on top of him and holding his hands so he could catch his breath for a moment. “Finn,” he said, “buddy.”

“What?” Finn had the audacity to look slightly concerned. 

“Can we take this to a bed,” Poe asked, breathing like he’d just sprinted a 5k. He was so hard his jeans were torturing him, and Finn had to be in a similar state, from how tight his pants were. 

“Sure,” Finn said. “Look, I even have a real bed, I promise.” Most of the furniture in here was improvised. Poe had actually already checked, when Finn wasn’t watching him, because he was concerned that the bed might be too. It was a perfectly reasonable full-sized bed with an actual mattress, though Poe hadn’t tested it out.

“If we go to my bed,” Poe said, “I have condoms.”

Finn bit his lip, shivering a little— he was into that, for sure— but said, “Actually I think I want to take things slower than that.”

A shudder went down Poe’s spine, and something went hot behind his ribs, kind of melting. He grabbed Finn’s face between his hands and kissed him, hungry but soft and slow. “You’re sweet,” he said, eyes closed, resting his forehead against Finn’s, “you’re so sweet, Finn, why are you so sweet.”

“I want to do this right,” Finn said. “I don’t want to fuck this up. You’re trusting me not to fuck this up and I really want to reward that trust, y’know?”

Poe kissed him again, keeping it lighter, biting it off and resuming it, over and over, to keep it from getting too deep, and talking in between. “I do trust you,” he murmured. “Oh God. Finn, this is such a good idea. But I didn’t mean— condoms don’t just mean one thing, y’know? There are still— there’s a bunch of possibilities with them. That’s all I meant.”

“Oh,” Finn said. He kept sort of helplessly following Poe’s mouth when Poe pulled back each time, and then making himself wait for Poe to resume the contact, and it was driving Poe crazy how simultaneously eager and patient Finn was being. He’d clearly done this sort of thing before, he had the knack of it too easily to be entirely a virgin, but had equally clearly never taken his time like this, never really savored his partner like this, and was so transparently delighted by each revelation of sensation that it was nearly painful. “Well. If you’d be more comfortable. I just, uh.” His gaze went indirect, shifty. “I just don’t want to— brave a public hallway in my current state.”

Poe grinned, delighted. “Man you have a point,” he said, sitting back a little to press the heel of his hand down against the crowded front of his jeans. He could feel Finn’s current state, hot and firm against his ass, and he really wanted more information about that. “I mean. Let’s weigh our options. My bed, I know where all my stuff is and I’m prepared for anything,  _ but _ I know Artoo’s the kind of cat that tries to get involved, I don’t know about BB but she probably will too. Plus we have to walk to get there.”

“Have you not had BB long?” Finn asked. 

“I mean,” Poe said, “like six months, but I don’t bring people back to my place, you know? I had Artoo before, he lived with my dad for a while, he’s been with me a long time. He’s been around. He’s seen it all.”

“You don’t bring people back to your place,” Finn said, eyebrows pulling together a little. 

Poe supposed he might as well say it. “You’re different, buddy.” He smiled at Finn, and it was sort of wobbly, which he hadn’t intended, he’d been aiming for smooth. “I mean, I don’t think I have to tell you that, but I will— you’re different.”

Finn slid his hand around the back of Poe’s head then and pulled him in to kiss him, deep and sincere and  _ god _ Poe was so turned-on he might die. “I guess I know you well enough to know you don’t say that to all the guys,” Finn said.

“I don’t bother,” Poe admitted. “I’ve heard just about every line, you know, and they really don’t work that well on me, so I don’t really bother using them on other people.”

Finn laughed. “Well,” he said. “Affecting as that is, I’m still casting my vote for the closer bed. I actually haven’t ever done anything involving condoms before and I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

“Anything where, y’know, body fluids and mucous membranes come into contact,” Poe said, having to really focus to keep himself from reattaching his mouth to Finn’s. “Anything at all. And I— haven’t always been that careful, I’ve been, even, deliberately stupid a couple of times, and I think I’ve had clean test results since but I’m not totally sure and I’m not going to take any chances until I get to double-check.”

“Oh, good idea,” Finn said. “But look. I just want to touch you with my hands, and I don’t think I’m prepared for anything past that. Can we start with that?”

“Yeah,” Poe said, “we can start with that. Closer bed it is, then.” And he gave in to the temptation to kiss Finn again.

“We actually have to stand up for that to happen,” Finn said after a few moments, murmuring it quietly, conspiratorially, in Poe’s ear, like it was a secret.

“We do,” Poe said, amusement curling warm and happy through his midsection. “That’s tragic.” But he managed to get to his feet, and gave Finn a hand up, and then kissed him standing there because they were almost exactly the same height, and Poe wasn’t yet going to admit to himself that it was because he was wearing shoes and Finn wasn’t. 

“We’re not really any closer than we were to actually--” Finn said, and Poe grinned into his mouth and put his hands on Finn’s ass and steered him backward toward the bedroom door. Finn’s sterile, empty apartment was good for one thing, and that was walking backward and blind through without tripping over anything, because there wasn’t anything to trip over. 

Finn’s ass, also, was exactly as sublime as Poe had always thought it might be; Finn wore reasonably tight pants, so it wasn’t really a mystery, but having been able to see that it was well-shaped and round and perky wasn’t exactly the same as feeling how firm and so on and so forth it was, and it wasn’t something Poe could afford to dwell on at the moment because he was already pretty overloaded. He focused on his mission and got Finn back up against the bed, and Finn sat down and grinned up at him. 

“Teamwork,” Poe said, and stepped back a pace to lean against the door frame so he could get out of his shoes and socks.

Finn watched him, clearly delighted as he came over to the bed in his bare feet. “I thought you were gonna take your pants off too,” he said. 

“I could do that,” Poe said. He stepped in between Finn’s knees and hiked his shirt hem up a little, and unbuttoned his jeans fly, biting his lip. Finn watched raptly, gaze darting from Poe’s hands up to his mouth and back. He teased Finn with it, a little, but he didn’t actually have the patience or self-possession for a proper strip-tease, so after a moment he just shucked the jeans entirely, and stripped off his hoodie too while he was at it, dropping both into a pile. He stood there for a moment in his t-shirt and underpants, and had a moment to be grateful that he’d worn really sensible underwear because of changing in possibly-not-all-that-private spaces, so they were actual brand-name boxer briefs of recent vintage and in a sensible, basic black, instead of any of the wilder or less-reputable denizens of his poorly-curated underwear drawer.

Finn’s gaze on him was like a weight, and he climbed onto the bed, pushing Finn down. “You too,” he said. “You gotta-- you too,” and shoved at Finn’s shirt. 

“Okay,” Finn said, laughing a little, and pulled his shirt up and off over his head. 

Poe wasn’t ready, he really wasn’t ready. All that skin, flawless and even, beautiful, smooth and muscled and solid body, and then he noticed that Finn had a tattoo just under his collarbone, black ink a darker smudge against dark skin, a serial number, and he had to reach out and touch it and pause, for a moment, suspended in a little droplet of disbelief. 

“FN-2187,” he read.

“My designation,” Finn said. “When I told you Finn was just a noise people made at me, I wasn’t lying. In the Order they called me by the whole thing, or eight-seven for short, but out here people tried to say the whole thing like it was a word. So, _ fnn. _ Finn.”

Poe stared at him for a moment, then looked down at the tattoo. Maybe the worst thing was that it was blurry, clearly old; it had been put into Finn’s skin while he was still growing. The contrast between old ink and young skin was-- unspeakable, but Poe remembered to look up at Finn’s face, and that it wasn’t exactly fair to mentally relive all Finn’s traumas while Finn was lying there half-naked and clearly not in a mood for that kind of reflection.

So Poe bent down and kissed the tattoo, softly, open-mouthed, reverent, tasting Finn’s skin. He opened his eyes and looked up at Finn after a moment, and Finn was watching him glassy-eyed, mouth parted. “ _ Fair he is, and well-shaped _ ,” Poe murmured, because of course he’d looked up the relevant passage before he’d given the book to Finn. He smiled, and kissed Finn’s collarbone with his mouth curled like that, following the shape of it up to the junction with his neck. “My shining hero.”

Finn made a fervent little noise that indicated this was working for him, and Poe laughed a little, reaching down and unfastening Finn’s trousers. “I never knew names meant stuff,” Finn confessed, breath hitching as Poe teased the zipper of his fly down. “What’s yours mean?”

“It means my mom was weird,” Poe said, on a muffled laugh. “No, it’s short for something old and weird, a saint’s name, I never cared much for it, but it was in the family.” He raised his head. “That’s a thing people do a lot, you give a baby a name that someone in your family carried, to tie them back to their roots.” As he said it, he thought about how Finn would probably never know who his family was, and it was less funny. “Also sometimes when people have just given birth, they don’t have the clearest judgement, and so my mother insisted on naming me this name and never could really remember why, and it wasn’t like my father was in any state to countermand her at the time.”

“Saint Poe?” Finn was less glassy-eyed, considering that. 

“No,” Poe said, and got Finn’s fly open and put his hand in, exploring what lay behind. It effectively ended discussion, which was what Poe had wanted-- it wasn’t like he was ashamed of his name, but there was really nothing sexy about it. He wanted Finn to get that glassy-eyed half-lost look again, and that was what he got.

Finn made great needy little noises as Poe worked his hand down between his opened trousers and his underwear. Finn’s dick, trapped inside sensible navy blue cotton boxer-briefs, was nice, big but not scary-big, and it was so hot, so thick, so hard, Poe could hardly think straight for how badly he wanted it. 

Finn managed to collect himself enough to wriggle out of his trousers, and then they were both in their underwear, and Finn put his hand up Poe’s shirt, pushing it up. 

Poe obligingly skimmed his shirt off and tossed it over toward the pile of his clothes, and Finn ran his hand admiringly along Poe’s collarbone, out toward his shoulder. Poe leaned in and kissed his mouth, running his fingers along the waistband of Finn’s underwear, sliding his palm over the firm soft curve of the top of Finn’s ass. He tugged Finn up onto his side a little, so they could lie chest to chest on their sides on the bed, and he hooked his thigh around Finn’s to pull their lower bodies together. 

They both made a fervent little noise as their hips lined up, and Poe rocked forward a little to grind his erection against Finn’s, slipping his fingers down under Finn’s waistband in the back, following his skin down, savoring the warmth of his skin. 

Finn groaned against Poe’s mouth, and shifted his hips to pull his underwear down. Poe eagerly moved his hands to help, and the noise that came out of his mouth as Finn’s cock bobbed free of the cloth was completely involuntary. 

“Oh yeah,” Poe said, and closed his hand around Finn’s erection. “That’s perfect.”

Finn laughed unsteadily. “I, oh, I’m not-- it won’t take long, I don’t-- oh-- have a lot of practice--”

“Baby,” Poe said, “you’re perfect, don’t worry about it.”

“I want-- you,” Finn said, uncoordinatedly reaching for Poe’s underwear. Poe laughed, briefly relinquishing his hold on Finn’s dick to hike his underwear down and shimmy out of it, then went back to what he’d been doing. 

Finn eagerly took hold of Poe’s cock, looking down to admire his body. “I like this,” he said. “What’s that?”

He was pointing at the tattoo Poe had at the front of his hip, just under his iliac crest, nestled up next to the line of his inguinal ligament, which was a bit less defined than it had been when he’d gotten the tattoo but, Poe was pleased to note, was still a reasonable landmark. He hadn’t gone entirely soft in his ignominious retirement. “It’s a good luck symbol,” Poe said. “I collected good luck symbols for a little while.”

“Why?” Finn asked delightedly. 

“I was a pilot,” Poe said, “and pilots tend to be superstitious.” He licked his lower lip and grinned. “I have a bunch of tattoos like that.”

“I never would have guessed,” Finn said, and his expression went a little avid. 

“Oh no,” Poe said, laughing happily, “now you’re going to find them all, aren’t you.”

“I sure am,” Finn said. He pushed himself up, skimming a hand across Poe’s belly, and bent to kiss the tattoo on his hip. Poe shivered ticklishly, mostly because Finn’s breath was hot against his cock and he was trying not to think about that too much. Finn sat up, then, and looked over the front of Poe’s torso. There were no tattoos on his chest or belly, but farther down, on his thigh, there was one curling around the outside of his thigh midway up from his knee, and Finn grabbed his leg and bent it to look. “What’s this?”

“It’s some Maya symbols,” Poe said, “my mom was from-- oh!” Finn used his hold on Poe’s leg to flip him, easily, and oh no, Poe was really into that, he’d been trying not to let on. “Hngh.” 

There were tattoos on the backs of both of Poe’s thighs, and Finn laughed in delight, running his hands over them. The leg that didn’t have the glyphs had another tattoo down on the calf, wrapping around to above the ankle bone, and Finn traced that, then pulled Poe’s leg up to investigate the little tattoo over the top of his foot that curled down toward the arch. Poe was effectively pinned on his face, now, and he could probably have broken Finn’s hold, but sweet Christ he didn’t want to, he was almost beyond speech with how turned-on he was. Finn was just so confident, strong and competent and gentle, like he knew how a human body needed to be handled and wouldn’t exert more pressure than necessary, but had no shyness about exerting pressure at all. 

“These are cool,” Finn said. He turned Poe’s foot easily-- he just knew which direction it could go comfortably, and put it there, no hesitation or awkwardness or force necessary. “It’s your name and-- you have a serial number too.”

“Yeah,” Poe said, and explaining the trend of getting your dog tag info tattooed on you for ease of remains identification was beyond him, but he did feel like he had to explain. “It was voluntary though. I wanted that there.”

“Why here?” Finn asked. 

Poe breathed for a moment; he was so turned-on he was almost blissed-out with it. “Boots,” he said. “Sometimes-- I was a pilot. If there’s fire sometimes the only parts of you left are what’s in your boots. So, ID label.” 

“Oh,” Finn said, “that makes sense,” and he was so unconcerned-- Poe remembered that he wasn’t a civilian. That absolutely did just make sense to him, and didn’t upset him at all like it had every civilian who had ever noticed it before. He ran his hand up the back of Poe’s leg. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m so turned-on,” Poe confessed. “I’m  _ so _ turned-on I. Sentences. Can’t.”

Finn laughed, and then he caught sight of the tattoo at the back of Poe’s hip. “Does that one just say ‘Lucky’?”

“It’s my classiest tattoo,” Poe said, and sweet Jesus, Finn bent down and licked it. It was one of those little classic retro-sailor-style text-banners, and it said “Lucky” in script and was wound through an upright horseshoe and a four-leaf clover, and Poe had gotten it on a dare at the height of his cocky phase. It had won him several bets in bars. It had not saved him from his career-ending crash.

“Is it that you’re lucky, or that whoever’s seeing it is lucky?” Finn asked, breath hot and damp and right next to Poe’s ass and he still had Poe’s ankle in his hand so Poe was still de facto pinned in place facedown and his brain was pegged in overload, his whole body tingling. He’d felt like this before but not from such innocuous contact.

“You tell me,” Poe managed to say. 

Finn laughed. “Good one,” he said, running his hand down Poe’s spine, bending Poe’s leg a little more. If he pinned Poe’s arm behind his back, Poe thought dimly that his heart would probably just stop. “You’re really-- I didn’t figure you’d just go limp if I started manhandling you, are you okay?”

“Oh God,” Poe said thinly, “I am _ so _ okay,  _ please _ \--” He hadn’t figured he’d just go limp either, he was used to wrestling back a lot more. Fuck, he hadn’t just-- let someone touch him in a really long time. Only doctors, and he’d always been faintly resentful and uncooperative with them, despite his best efforts to be a good patient. 

Anyone else, he’d fought back at least a little, at least enough to let them know they weren’t in charge. Part of it, too, was that he always kind of felt like he had to make it worth people’s while, like he had to be amazing in bed to earn their attention. He certainly couldn’t be passive, couldn’t let things just happen. He always felt like he had to take charge, and sometimes it wound up making sex kind of seem like a chore. It was fucked-up, now that Poe thought of it, and possibly worse because he’d never thought about it before.

But there wasn’t even a hint of that here. 

“Please what?” Finn asked, rubbing his hand up and down Poe’s spine. 

Good question. “Anything,” Poe said, and his voice had gone so thin and pleading, he hadn’t meant that to happen. Finn moved his hand down and caressed Poe’s ass, and Poe made a completely involuntary little whimpering sound, all he could think about was Finn opening him up and spreading him and fucking him and Poe’s eyes were rolling back, he was almost whiting out with how aroused he was, this was out of hand. 

“You really would let me do anything,” Finn mused, and his voice was low and pleased. “Oh, Poe. But we talked about it already. I see now you weren’t just being hasty.” He let go of Poe’s ankle, and grabbed his hip, rolling him over onto his back. “I think I was wrong when I assumed I’d done this before. Compared to this, I’ve never done  _ anything _ before.”

“You’ve hardly touched me,” Poe managed to say, but it was an obvious and complete lie. Finn grinned at him, and it banished the nagging feeling of shame that was starting to crawl up the back of Poe’s throat. 

“You’re right,” Finn said, and licked his lips, running his hand along Poe’s hip. He was looking at Poe’s dick now, he was clearly thinking about-- Poe’s eyes rolled back despite himself as Finn leaned down and put his mouth on-- it was like an electric shock of  _ no _ and  _ yes _ at the same time, Finn’s hot wet mouth on his cock.

“No,” Poe managed to say, coordinating a heavy arm to shove at Finn’s head, “no-- fluids-- we said-- remember?” He shoved a little desperately at Finn, despite the way his hips were hitching, oh God he wanted that, it was so fucking good-- 

Finn pulled off and gave him a puzzled look, keeping his hand moving. “What, even if I don’t finish you off?” He didn’t seem offended, just confused.

“Even then,” Poe said, struggling to make words. “Even-- still-- no, Finn--” 

“Oh,” Finn said. “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t know that.”

“Still counts,” Poe said. “Still-- dangerous.”

“Oh, that’s a shame,” Finn said, and he seemed sincere. “I am sorry. This is all right, though?” And he licked his hand and wrapped it around Poe’s completely-unabashed erection.

“Yes,” Poe said, and he was trembling already, which was kind of embarrassing, but it was impossible to hang onto any bad feelings, because Finn was smiling at him now like he had done something particularly brilliant.

“Come on, then,” Finn said, shifting position to lie down beside him, and starting to really work Poe’s cock in earnest with his nice slick, wet grip. 

Poe made a really heartfelt noise, almost a sob, and summoned enough coordination to at least find Finn’s dick, which was really, really hard, really hot, really right there, and he held onto it while the rest of his body pretty much lost its entire composure, surging up into Finn’s grip while sparks ran inward from all his limbs and collected at the base of his spine and started shooting up toward his skull. 

“Finn,” Poe said, “Finn, fuck, I need-- fuck-- oh God-- fuck--”

‘Come on, baby,” Finn said, low and hoarse right in his ear, and he slid his free arm around behind Poe’s shoulder, grabbing the back of his neck to hold him still.

Poe sobbed and came so hard, so so hard, crying out and shaking, his whole body shaking, and Finn kissed him, his face and his neck and his mouth and his shoulder and he’d curled and turned and tucked himself in against Finn, Finn was holding him and kissing him and still moving gently, his whole body, oh-- right-- he wasn’t done yet, he was breathing hard and Poe came to himself enough to pay better attention to Finn’s magnificent cock, which left unattended had kind of worked its way into rubbing against Poe’s hip.

Poe angled his body a little better, overcoming his langor enough to get Finn’s cock between that inguinal ligament divot and his hand, and Finn was leaking enough that the whole mess was pretty slippery but given the lack mucous membranes in either the hip or hand, the risk was pretty low, so Poe grinned up at him and breathed, “C’mon, your turn, hotshot.”

Finn made a really affecting little gasping noise and threw his head back and came, and it was really hot, Poe wasn’t really one to get off on that but it was undeniably hot to have a big mess all over his belly like that, his own mess and Finn’s, and Finn was shuddering down to a halt, making great little soft noises. 

“Fuck,” Poe said, and grabbed the back of Finn’s head to pull his face close enough for kissing. He was going to roll onto his side, but actually, the mess was kind of contained and hadn’t gotten all over the sheets yet, so he should probably just stay where he was for the moment. He had no idea what Finn’s laundry schedule was like. Adulthood was, he thought, at its best, both of these things-- both the wild sex, and the logistics of cleanup.

“Poe,” Finn whispered, kind of brokenly.

“Yeah,” Poe said. Finn shivered, and Poe pulled him in. He wound up with Finn’s head on his shoulder. 

“It was never like that before,” Finn said quietly, after a moment.

Poe huffed out a soft laugh, and kissed Finn’s head. “That’s called chemistry, baby.”

“Really?” Finn raised his head to look at Poe. Poe smiled fondly, and nodded. Finn’s cautious, surprised smile back was the kind of thing, Poe reflected dimly with the tiny part of his mind that could still summon any kind of perspective, that poets had probably been talking about all this damn time. 

“You got a dirty laundry pile?” Poe asked, running his thumb over Finn’s gorgeous lower lip. “A gross sweaty t-shirt or something I can use to clean up with that won’t make more laundry for you?”

Finn’s brow creased a little as he thought about that, and then he looked at Poe’s midsection and laughed. “Oh,” he said. “Uh, yeah, probably.”

Poe did not sit up to watch him get out of bed, even though he kind of wanted to, because wow he was  _ really _ a mess. It was sort of hot but his arousal had subsided enough that he was starting to think it was gross. “This is why you use condoms even for non-penetrative stuff,” he mused. “Just for ease of cleanup.”

“I’m so sorry,” Finn said, appearing back in his field of view with a wrinkled t-shirt. He very carefully wiped Poe down, looking contrite. “I didn’t-- I figured I understood the concept, but-- I wasn’t trying to, like, test your boundaries, or--”

“Oh,” Poe said, “no, I know, it’s fine. It’s just. It’s a serious thing.”

“I know it’s serious,” Finn said, “and I had  _ just _ observed that you’d probably let me do anything I wanted, and then I went and did something you’d expressly asked me not to. I  _ swear _ I didn’t mean to.”

“I know,” Poe said. “I know it was. Believe me, I know.” He held out his hand, and Finn tossed the t-shirt back into the laundry hamper, then leaned down to him again. “I know, baby.” He caught Finn by the jaw and pulled him in to kiss him.

“I’m so sleepy,” Finn said, sitting up a little to find the blankets from the bed. He pulled them up, and tucked himself around Poe, and it was so perfect.

Poe ran his hand back and forth along the smooth curve of Finn’s shoulder, watching the day’s dying light slant across the ceiling. It was so idyllic, and perfect, and he was half-lost in blissful contemplation of nothing in particular when he suddenly realized that it was a Sunday evening and he had not told his father he was home.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Poe said, sucking in a breath and waking up with a cold jolt.


	2. Chapter 2

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Poe said, sucking in a breath and waking up with a cold jolt.

Finn made a confused noise, rousing slowly. He’d been asleep, really asleep.

“Sorry,” Poe said, gutted with it, mortified, “I forgot-- I have to call my dad, I always call my dad on Sundays, where’s my phone?”

“Oh,” Finn said, clearly completely disoriented. Poe disentangled himself as gently as he could manage, and scrambled through the pile of his clothes on the floor,  _ fuck _ , his phone wasn’t in his hoodie or his jeans,  _ fuck _ , he’d either left it in his overnight bag or in Marisol’s car which was even worse,  _ fuck _ . 

Poe looked up at the clock on the wall, and it was nearly 8pm, and if Kes had called Marisol, which he surely had, he would know that Poe had been dropped off hours ago, and-- oh God-- if he’d come over then Poe wouldn’t have answered his door because he wasn’t in his apartment--  _ fuck _ . He was so fucked. They had a _ deal _ . It had been _ his idea _ . Fuck.

“Let me use your phone,” Poe said, desperate. He had to call him  _ right now _ . There was a chance Kes hadn’t freaked out yet. A slim chance, but a chance.

Finn had sat up, and looked a little taken aback. “Okay,” he said. “It’s-- in my pants, probably?”

Poe fumbled the phone out of Finn’s discarded pants pocket, and dialed it unerringly; his father had the same phone number he’d always had, he’d gotten his old house phone number transferred over to a cellphone, thank fucking God. 

Kes picked up on the third ring. “Dameron,” he said, taut and businesslike,  _ shit _ .

“Papa, it’s me, and I’m okay, and I’m so sorry,” Poe said, all in one breath. 

“ _ Jesus _ fucking  _ Christ _ ,” Kes gritted out, “we had a _ deal _ , Poe.”

“I know,” Poe said, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, “I know, I’m so sorry. I lost track of the time and I didn’t know my phone wasn’t in my pocket. I haven’t even looked for it yet, it must be in my bag or something, I just-- I didn’t even notice it was gone.”

Kes let out an audible breath. “Baby boy,” he said, and he sounded exhausted.

“I know, Dad,” Poe said miserably. “I know.” 

“I had Anita go ring your doorbell, almost twenty minutes ago,” Kes said. “She said you didn’t answer.”

“Fuck,” Poe said. Anita lived less than a block away, it wasn’t like she’d really put herself out, but Kes hated doing that, for excellent reasons, and that meant he’d already called Poe repeatedly and probably called Marisol and Pedro both, and that put the number of people involved in this up pretty high because Anita was an inveterate gossip, and so was Pedro’s wife. 

“Care to explain where you are, my child?”

“My neighbor invited me to dinner,” Poe said. “I’m downstairs. I didn’t even think of it because I haven’t left the building. But there’s a separate ringer for this apartment. I never heard her.”

“The same neighbor that got you punched in the face?” Kes’s voice rose in indignation.

“No,” Poe said, “Papa, no, he moved out. The new one.” 

Kes sighed again, and that was bad, that was a two-sigh phone call. “We had a deal, Poe, and _ you _ made this deal, I didn’t make it up. I don’t do this for kicks.”

“I know, Papa,” Poe said. “I’m calling from my neighbor’s phone because I didn’t want to take the time to find mine first. I called as soon as I realized that I would have missed your call. I know how serious it is. I know I deserve this. I’m so sorry.”

There was a heavy silence. “Poe,” Kes said finally. “It’s not a question of what you deserve. It’s a question of, the last time you missed a check-in, what was happening.”

“I know,” Poe said. “I know, Papa.” He looked up, and realized he was sitting on the floor, still naked, and Finn was sitting up in bed watching him with an utterly lost expression. And it was in that moment for the first time that it occurred to Poe that Finn surely did not speak Spanish. 

He’d have to explain. Well, one more thing to look forward to. 

“I miss the days when you used to give me shit,” Kes said. “This  _ I know, Papa _ shit is giving me hives.”

Poe sighed. “Believe me, Papa,” he said, “I miss the days when I was justified in giving you shit.” He rubbed his face. 

“I had a nice talk with Marisol,” Kes said, after a pause, and his tone was different. He had moved from being angry to resigned, and Poe hated that he knew that tone now, hated that he’d done this so much that he knew these subtle gradations. He’d never known all of his father’s tones of voice before, not as a kid or as a teenager. 

He’d never had to.

“I bet you did,” Poe said. 

“She’s quite sure your phone isn’t in her car, by the way,” Kes said, “so it’s probably in your bag, then. In your apartment.” He sighed, and that made this a three-sigh phone call. An angry sigh, a resigned sigh, and now probably the adrenaline letdown sigh. No good. “She talked about how happy you seemed, how well you played and how much fun you had. And all I could think about was every news story, where they always ask the family and they always say--” Kes had to stop, voice going thin.

“Papa,” Poe said, closing his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” Kes said, and he was nearly under control again, because if there was one thing Kes Dameron was, besides the most embarrassing dad in history, it was a stone-cold badass. (How these two things could coexist was difficult to explain to the uninitiated.) “That’s just-- every damn news story is always like that.  _ He seemed so happy _ , they say,  _ we can’t understand _ , they say.”

“It’s because nobody wants to say _ he was a sack of shit _ ,” Poe said, putting the quote in English in a fakey voice and drawling accent. “She didn’t tell you about the panic attack I had in the middle of the night and poor Julie had to talk me down?”

“No,” Kes said, sounding pained, “she didn’t mention that.”

“And there were a bunch of pretty girls doing tequila shots,” Poe went on, “and I had one, and one of the girls told me I looked like I had strong fingers, and I decided that was my cue to go back with the others and go to bed, so I did.”

“Who even _ are  _ you,” Kes said. Close, but not quite good enough.

“I know, Papa,” Poe said. “She was your type, too, thigh gap you could drive a bike through.”

“Ugh, no,” Kes said, “you know that’s not--” And then he laughed, a real laugh. Goal achieved. “You’re just trying to wind me up.” Poe’s mother had been slender, and Poe had always joked that Kes liked extremely thin women, and it had always been a moot point because Kes had never dated again, but Kes had liked to wind Poe up by pretending, instead, to admire various women, usually curvy ones, and Poe had always obligingly pretended to be grossed-out by the whole concept.

He was sort of grossed-out by the concept of having a physical type, really, but so was Kes, and that was part of the joke. 

The truly astonishing part was that they could joke about Poe’s type being sometimes men so easily. Poe had been so terrified to tell his father he wasn’t straight, for  _ years _ it had held him back from even accepting it himself-- just the thought of either hiding it or explaining it to Kes had been such an obstacle. And finally Poe just hadn’t been able to keep it under wraps anymore, and Kes had completely failed to be upset about it. He’d been a little confused, possibly over how he could have never known before, but it had never really seemed to matter. Poe couldn’t help but be a little mad, maybe at himself, for having taken so long, but how would he have guessed that Kes wouldn’t be upset?

“Of course I am, Papa,” Poe said. “And my poor neighbor is sitting here staring at me because he doesn’t speak Spanish and I haven’t explained to him why I suddenly freaked out and demanded his phone. We were having such a good time, Papa, I was having such a nice time, I just forgot about what day it was and never thought to check for my phone.”

“Oh, Poe,” Kes said softly. “I’m glad you were happy, at least.”

For an instant, Poe considered explaining to his father just how happy he was, but he figured that was a step too far. “I should go and make him come upstairs with me so I can call my phone with his and find it,” he said instead.

“You should go,” Kes said. “I have a couple of people to call to explain to.”

“I’ll tell Marisol,” Poe said.

“No,” Kes said, “you tell Anita. I think I want to talk to Marisol.”

“Don’t yell at her,” Poe said. “If she didn’t tell you--”

“I don’t want to yell at her,” Kes said. “Jesus. You think I’d yell at her? Poe. You  _ really _ don’t pay attention.”

And somehow, for the first time, in that moment, it occurred to Poe that Kes and Marisol had a relationship beyond mutually worrying about him, and it was simultaneously wonderful and horrifying. “ _ Oh _ my God,” Poe said. He considered Marisol too young to mother him, but she was in her late forties, and Kes was only fifty-three. And she was a lovely woman, self-possessed and sparkling and oh,  _ that _ was his father’s type. 

“If you would just stay the fuck out of trouble for ten minutes,” Kes said, “I might have a shot with her.”

“Oh noooo,” Poe said softly, covering his eyes. “Oh, no, Papa.” He laughed helplessly. “I have to go, Papa, I have to go explain to my neighbor. Listen, when you talk to Marisol, you can tell her where I was. She’ll know, I was talking about him.”

“Oh,” Kes said, sounding interested. 

“I took her advice,” Poe said. “Her and Julie.”

“Oh,” Kes said. There was a moment. “Tell me you have pants on.”

Poe blew a breath out through his lips. “Gotta plead the Fifth, Papa.”

“Oh  _ nooo _ ,” Kes said, and hung up on him. It was good, because Kes didn’t know that much about Poe’s disaster dates, and Marisol would tell him about the committee vote. And it would be a good segue for Kes to work whatever game his rusty old ass could possibly still have. Poe wasn’t thinking about that though.

Poe exited the phone app, and rubbed his face. “Sorry about that,” he said, putting the phone onto the edge of the bed. “I hope I didn’t use up all your minutes.”

Finn looked blank. “Minutes,” he said, but then shook his head. Poe had a moment of blank realization that Finn probably hadn’t had a cellphone during the era of Anytime Minutes, and that those weren’t really a thing anymore. He dismissed the thought as Finn said, soft and worried, “You seemed upset. I don’t know what language that was.”

“Spanish,” Poe said. “It’s my dad’s first language.” He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck, and then ran his hand through his hair, which was dramatically disarranged. Oh man, he had Sex Hair. It had been a while since he’d felt good about that. “I have a deal with my father where I check in with him a couple of times a week and confirm to him that I am not on any drugs, off my meds, drunk to the point of passing out, hurting myself, disoriented or confused or anything like that, because I have had a very rough year and I may have had a few episodes of various of those things, and the most sacred of the check-in days is Sunday.” He stood up, and sorted through his pile of clothing, found his underwear, put it back on, and started sorting out the legs of his jeans. “So. I left my phone upstairs, probably in my bag, so I didn’t pick up when he called me.”

“Oh,” Finn said, realization dawning across his face. 

Poe nodded grimly, and got his jeans on. “Yeah,” he said. “And it’s not-- I’m a lot better than I was, Finn, but there’ve been-- some problems. Last time I missed a check-in was because I.” He let a breath out, made a face. 

Finn stood up, and came over to him, taking Poe’s face between his hands. “You don’t have to tell me the story,” he said. “If you want to get it out, you can, but I don’t need details. I understand.”

Poe was struck anew by the soft brilliance of Finn’s face, and blinked at him, a little dazzled. “Oh,” he said. 

Finn kissed him, tender and langorous, and Poe wrapped his arms around him and savored the feeling of their warm bare skin pressing together. Finn was all young smooth muscle, and even both barefoot Finn had maybe an inch on Poe, it wasn’t that much of a difference. He kissed Poe hard enough to rock his head back a little, then pulled back just enough to murmur, “Whatever it was, I’m glad you survived it.”

“I’ll tell you all of it sometime,” Poe said. “I think I’ll want you to know just so you’re up on the context.” He sighed, and ran his hands down to Finn’s ass, which was still gloriously naked. “I have to go back to my place and find my phone. I was thinking of bribing you to come with me so that I could use your phone to call my phone, which would make it easier to locate. But I don’t know what kind of bribe you’d take.”

Finn considered that. “I mean,” he said, “you already carelessly left all your ice cream sandwiches in my freezer. I don’t know what else you could possibly have that would tempt me.” He traced a finger up the middle of Poe’s abdomen, starting with his belly button. “And I’d have to put pants on, and that’s the worst.”

“I could take them off you again when we get there,” Poe said, licking his lower lip, but then dropped the sultry act to continue, “once I’ve gone through my notifications and called the old lady down the street who my dad had to call to come ring my doorbell to see if I was okay.”

“Really,” Finn said, taken aback.

“Oh yeah,” Poe said. “He called the people he knew I was with today, he called a friend who lives nearby to come ring my doorbell, he called the landlord to make sure the doorbell was working. He lives half an hour away, and I would place bets he was either already in his car, or on his way there.”

“He really-- huh,” Finn said.

“He calls at five if he hasn’t heard from me before then,” Poe said. “So for three hours I haven’t picked up my phone or answered my doorbell?”

“Oh no,” Finn said.

“And I missed check-in on Thursday,” Poe said, “because I was working, and I’d texted him to let him know that, but still. He hasn’t heard my actual voice in a week, and he knows when I’m not doing well I tend to hide it from him, because one of the things that happens is I’m not thinking straight.”

“Oh no,” Finn said again. 

“Yeah,” Poe said. 

Finn hooked his fingers in Poe’s belt loops and pulled him close again. “Well,” he said. “Just for that, then, I won’t require a bribe to come up and help you find your phone.”

Poe leaned in and caught Finn’s mouth with his, softly. “I’ll make it worth your while anyway.”

Finn’s phone vibrated, and Finn rubbed his thumb along Poe’s hipbone before letting go of him and turning to pick up his phone, on the way to the beat-up old dresser in the corner. He stopped, though, and laughed. “Look at this,” he said, handing the phone to Poe before turning back to get clean clothes out of the dresser.

It was a text from Kes. 

“Welcome to bean my new best friend,” Kes had written. He’d followed it up with “Speech to text dose not orc as good in English.”

Poe wrote back “Dad don’t embarrass me in front of my friends,” and sent it.

Finn came and looked over his shoulder. “He can write to me, I’d be delighted,” he said, pulling on the basketball shorts that Poe knew he wore as pajamas. 

Kes wrote back, “That’s my entire porpoise in life,” and Poe couldn’t stop laughing because he knew the typo was most likely unintentional. Poe swiped and swiped through the emojis, looking in vain for a dolphin, and finally had to settle for sending back an indeterminate blue whale-ish creature, and an orca.

Finn seemed a little offended on Kes’s behalf, as he took his phone back, his glorious torso sadly hidden behind a plain white t-shirt. “You said English isn’t his first language,” Finn said, mildly reproachful.

“His English is perfect, though,” Poe said. “He just can’t type.”

“Hmph,” Finn said, and typed something. Poe craned his neck to see, but Finn turned away, and Poe gave it up as a bad job.

“C’mon,” Poe said, pulling his shirt over his head, “let’s go find my phone and make some excuses to some old ladies, and then I’ll suck your dick until you forget your name.”

Finn laughed. “That’s not difficult, I haven’t had it that long. But just you try to get me to forget my serial number,” he said.

“Challenge accepted,” Poe said. 


End file.
